Double Eagle Double Cross, page 23
Ogletree steepled his fingers, looked over the top of his glasses, and asked, “Now, how may I help you?”
Mac decided to use the same ruse she had used in the previous bank. “We’ve been going through the effects of my late grandfather”—she glanced at Obie then back at Ogletree—“and came across this key. We don’t know what it fits, but somebody thought it might open a safety deposit box, so we’re checking around trying to identify it.”
Ogletree sat forward and, like the lady in the previous bank, extended his hand. “May I see the key, please?”
Mac dutifully placed the key on his upturned palm. The fellow sat back, studied the key for a moment, then turned and tapped something into his computer. He studied the screen for a moment, glanced at her, then back at the screen. Mac thought he mumbled something like, “Oh, that account,” but couldn’t be sure. Finally, he swiveled around to face them.
“Yes, I can confirm that this key matches one of our safety deposit boxes.”
“May I ask a question?” Obie interrupted.
Mac turned to him in surprise. Ogletree simply nodded for him to proceed.
“Did this bank used to be named the Siuslaw Bank?”
Ogletree’s eyebrow raised in surprise. “Yes. Banner Bank bought out Siuslaw Bank a little over a year ago. Why do you ask?”
Obie stole a glance at Mac. “Just curious.”
Mac’s heart skipped a beat, and she had to fight to control her excitement.
Ogletree studied Obie for a moment then turned his attention back to Mac. “You say this belonged to your late grandfather?”
Mac paused, suddenly unsure, sensing a possible trap. “Yes,” she replied, trying to sound confident.
“And may I inquire what his name was?” Ogletree’s eyes narrowed as he studied her.
“Uh.” Mac glanced at her grandfather, who most certainly wasn’t dead but rather was standing there watching her with what appeared to be an amused expression. She turned back to Ogletree, meeting his gaze. “Charles Sawyer,” she stated emphatically.
Ogletree bit his lip, considering his reply. “This key fits a safety deposit box that, until recently, had not been accessed for well over a year. It can be accessed by three different people, one of whom, Charles Sawyer, I have recently been notified is dead.”
Mac nodded as though confirming the information she had shared, but then to her dismay, Ogletree was quick to clarify, “Uh, but not by you.”
Mac thought it best not to reply and fought to keep her face impassive.
“One name has been recently added, by my suggestion, to replace the first.”
They sat silently, Mac and Ogletree glaring at each other, each one obviously trying to decide what exactly to ask, exactly what information to share.
“And Charles Sawyer II hardly seems old enough to have been your grandfather.”
Mac swallowed, thinking desperately. “Uh, no, he wasn’t,” she stammered. “My grandfather was Charles Sawyer I.”
“Oh.” Ogletree nodded in understanding, a little too theatrically, Mac feared. “So Charles Sawyer II was your father?”
“Uncle,” Mac blurted. Even in a lie she couldn’t allow anyone to think she and Charley were siblings. Ogletree opened his mouth, obviously about to say something else, but Mac decided to take the offensive. “Would the second name that has access be Charles Sawyer III?”
Ogletree paused, seeming to consider his response, then slowly nodded. “It is.”
Obie interrupted the battle that seemed to be developing between Mac and Ogletree. “Was it Charles Sawyer III that recently added the third name?”
Mac glanced at her grandfather in confusion then at Ogletree, who she noticed was staring at her grandfather. Her gaze flicked back and forth between the two men as Ogletree replied, “It was.”
“Would the recently added name be Peter Hatch?” Mac asked with what she thought was a rush of insight.
Ogletree eyed her for a moment then shook his head. “No. I’m afraid not.”
Mac sat back, stunned and confused now about what to do.
“Would the recently added name be Makanaakua Bowman?”
Mac turned an incredulous look toward her grandfather, who was staring at Ogletree. How in the world had he come up with that one? As soon as she had heard Ogletree say that there had been a new name recently added, she had assumed it would be Peter, his grandfather. She had feared it might be someone they didn’t know, like Nettie Sundberg, or even worse, someone they did know, like Roxy.
As she brought her gaze back to Ogletree, who had not yet responded, she realized that her grandfather had guessed correctly. She reached into her purse, dug out her wallet, quickly removed her driver’s license, and placed it on the desk in front of Ogletree. “My name is Makanaakua Nixhoni Bowman. I’d like to see the safety deposit box now.”
Ogletree picked up the driver’s license, studied it silently, handed it back, then stood. “Please follow me,” he said as he led the way out of the cubicle.
Mac sat in the small private cubicle, the narrow safety deposit box in front of her on the table. Ogletree had insisted that access was allowed to only those whose names appeared on the account, so Jack and Obie had been forced to wait in the foyer. She inserted the key, lifted the lid, and peered inside.
The box contained two strange coins and one small piece of notepaper. Mac reached in the box and retrieved one of the coins. It was no accident she had chosen this coin first, and a thrill of recognition ran through her. It was a Double Eagle twenty-dollar gold piece exactly like the one in Aleshanee’s pouch. Why it was here and where it had come from she didn’t know, but she had enough experience as an anthropologist to understand that, at least at some level, they were connected. Exactly how a young Siuslaw girl’s trinket could be related to Charley’s disappearance, she couldn’t imagine.
Mac replaced the Double Eagle and picked up the other coin. This coin was similar in size but markedly different in appearance. Rather than gold, it felt and looked to be made of some common metal. In the center was engraved an eight-point star with the word Bickley inside. Four banners extended from the star with words between the banners. Mac examined the coin closer and finally removed her phone from her pocket, laid the coin on the table, and took pictures of first one side then the other.
Next she reached in and searched the bottom of the box. It took her a moment, but she eventually got a grip on the small scrap of paper.
Once again Mac’s breath seemed to catch. What was written on the paper caused her heart to speed up: two words, a name. Nettie Sundberg.
Chapter 33
“So? Any thoughts?”
Obie continued to study the face of his phone for a moment before answering. She’d sent the pictures of the contents of the safety deposit box to his phone, as well as to Jack, Peter, Bill, Jasmine, and Edie. Not only were they all anxious for an update, but they needed everyone’s input to try to figure out why Charley had felt those contents would be so important.
“First thought,” Obie mused as Jack slowed to take the turn back down Heceta Beach Road, “is that it now seems even more important to keep that appointment at one o’clock.”
“Why?” Mac was startled. “I was thinking we needed to cancel it and concentrate on trying to figure out where those coins came from and who this Nettie person is.”
Obie raised his gaze and looked intently at her. “I agree those are both important lines of inquiry, but pursuing them does not preclude the others. The box contained the Double Eagle exactly like the one in Aleshanee’s pouch. That gold piece, or I should say those gold pieces, seem to be an anomaly in both instances and are, therefore, a link that may be of great importance. This fellow we are meeting may be able to provide us with some information or some clue as to where they come from or why they may be important.”
They swayed with the van as Jack negotiated the winding road leading them toward the beach. “Have you heard from Bill and the others?”
Obie nodded. “Yes. I called them while you were looking at the contents of the safety deposit box to let them know we had found what the key fit. Then I texted them to make sure they had received the pictures.”
“Maybe they ought to show the pictures to Jim and Bob,” Jack said, glancing back at Mac—much to her consternation since he was driving the large vehicle down a narrow, winding road with dense foliage on both sides.
“Watch the road, Jack.” She motioned forward.
“‘Watch the road,’ she says,” Jack grumbled to Obie, who sat in the passenger seat. Obie was absorbed in the image on his phone but looked up in response to the interchange.
Jack motioned with his right hand toward Obie. “The road’s been here for a hundred years. It’ll be here for another hundred years. It ain’t going nowhere.”
“Watch the road, Jack,” Obie grumbled then went back to studying his phone.
Jack shrugged and, much to Mac’s relief, faced forward.
“Jim and Bob had eaten their pancakes and left before I called.” Obie didn’t look up from his screen.
Jack swung the big rig around another turn, and the T-junction that marked the intersection between Heceta Beach Road and Beach Drive came into view.
“Speaking of pancakes,” Jack once again broke the silence and irritatingly broke Mac’s concentration, “is anybody else hungry? In all the excitement, I didn’t get any breakfast.”
Mac felt she didn’t have time to eat. She needed to decipher these clues. She was sure Charley was in trouble, and time was short. Her stomach growled in opposition.
Obie looked up from his phone. “Nobody else has eaten either, except Jim and Bob. The others were too busy ransacking the beach house.” Obie checked his watch. “It’s coming up on eleven o’clock now. Bill suggested we pick them up and then go down to Old Town for some lunch before hitting that appointment. That will give us some time to talk this stuff over”—he held up his phone to indicate that he meant the contents of the safety deposit box—“and maybe brainstorm a little bit, form some strategy.”
Five minutes later, they were turning at the same intersection, this time going inland. Another ten minutes, and they were in the old riverfront portion of Florence. The narrow thoroughfare of Bay Street, which ran parallel to the river, was lined on both sides by restaurants and shops selling T-shirts, hoodies, kites, kitchen implements, leather goods, wind chimes, art, jewelry, ice cream, and just about anything else that might lure a tourist to part with their money. Mac knew, under different circumstances, she would love prowling among the various shops.
Jack found a parking place in a large lot west of the prime tourist area, obviously built to handle the many tourists who wanted to visit the small area. Together they walked along the edge of the marina until they reached Mo’s, a riverfront restaurant that was recommended by Peter, who had eaten there once on a visit several years before.
Mo’s was crowded, but they soon were ushered to a round table in the back corner where they had an excellent view of the river and the famous bridge that spanned the Siuslaw. They avoided any conversation until they had each placed their orders, then Obie looked around the table.
“Well. Any thoughts?”
Jasmine jumped in. “Edie and I have been trying to figure out who this Nettie Sundberg is but without much luck.” She cast an apologetic look toward Mac then continued, “We’ve both been doing Internet searches on our phones.”
“The connections are pretty slow out by the beach, but we managed,” Edie added.
“Anyway, the only references there seem to be of dead people from back East.”
“But we’ve been talking about it too,” Edie jumped in again. “We all know who the Roxy is on the note.”
“And we’re pretty sure the note had nothing to do with girlfriends.”
“Oh, thanks. That’s a relief,” Mac mumbled.
Jasmine reached across the table and placed a hand on top of Mac’s. “That’s not what we mean, dear. We mean we don’t think Charley was making a list of girlfriends then crossing them off as though they no longer made the list.”
“Why do you think that?” Peter asked.
“Yeah. Let’s not discard that theory so easily.” Mac spoke a little louder this time, a forced grin on her face, a part of her making fun of herself, a part of her aching inside.
“Because.” Edie shot her a look that seemed to hold a little impatience, as though chastising her to quit feeling sorry for herself. “The writing on the wall was put there primarily for Mac. It was her name that was the code word for Bob giving her the key, and then it was her name”—here she looked around the table to emphasize her point—“Charley listed to give us access to the safety deposit box.”
Jasmine looked pointedly at Mac. “You don’t do those kinds of things with somebody you’ve crossed off.”
“So what’s that got to do with Nettie Sundberg?” Peter asked.
Jasmine shrugged. “We don’t really know, but since it was her name that was inside the box—not Mac’s, not Roxy’s—I think we have to go on the premise that she has something to do with this whole business and with Charley’s disappearance.”
“Have you checked the local phone book?” Obie asked.
Jasmine shook her head. “Online, yes, but a paper one, no, not yet.”
Obie nodded. “Okay, what about this KGC thing?”
“KFC?” Jack looked up, startled. “What’s Kentucky Fried Chicken got to do with anything?”
“KGC,” Peter replied, slowly. “Not KFC.”
“Kentucky Grilled Chicken?”
Peter drilled Jack with a withering look. “Knights of the Golden Circle.” Then he turned back to face the others around the table. “The Knights of the Golden Circle was an organization created in the South during the Civil War by a fellow named George Bickley. Its purpose was to obtain funds, usually through some form of criminal activity, to finance a new confederate nation. The boundaries of their proposed nation included, of course, several Southern states, parts of northern Mexico, and several Caribbean islands, all within an area described by what they called the Golden Circle. Such ‘luminaries’ as John Wilkes Booth and Jesse James were rumored to be members of that organization. After the war, the KGC,” he shot a glance at Jack, “as it was called, lived on, evolving from a political movement to more of an organized crime syndicate.”
“But a secret organization like this Knights of the Golden Circle, operating here, in Oregon?” Mac bit her lip, still not convinced. “That seems a bit far-fetched.”
Peter shrugged. “They were very active in Northern California after the war. I suppose some could have migrated up here.”
Their food arrived, and for the next few minutes everyone was busy distributing plates to the proper recipients. When all was once again settled and mouths were busy chewing rather than talking, Bill asked, “How about the poem?”
“Poem?” Mac looked around the table and could see various levels of confusion.
“The one on the back of the paper that had the list of ‘not girlfriends’ on it. The one stuck in the checkbook that wasn’t a bank anymore but indicated where the key fit.”
“Okay, Bill,” Peter said. “What about the poem?”
“If you’ve read it, you will recall that every other line recited the same number sequence: one and two and three, four, five.”
“So?”
“Did anybody notice the paper Mac found in the safety deposit box? The one with the name Nettie Sundberg on it?”
The statement was met with confused gazes, no one understanding the sudden change of topic. Bill nodded his head toward their phones, most of which lay on the table top. “Look at the picture.”
Mac was the first to pull up the picture, but her reaction was quickly matched by everyone else around the table. “It’s the same number sequence written under the name,” she whispered, shocked that she hadn’t noticed it before.
Bill raised a fork but then needed to finish chewing and wash down his food with a drink of soda before answering. “I think that pretty well establishes a connection. We just don’t yet know what it is. I’ve been working on that and have a few ideas but still have a ways to go.” He reached into his shirt pocket, extracted the piece of paper, and placed it in the middle of the table where everyone could see it. “I think this is something we’re all going to need to sit down and go over. As you recall, it talks about treasure ships, which could relate to the gold coins we’ve found. Says they’re from somewhere called Hey-they-ta, so we’ll need to figure out what that means. There’s one part about Eagles of the Cagey Sea. I was thinking ocean, but when Peter was telling us about the Knights of the Golden Circle, I thought maybe it’s referring to those gold coins and this organization, the KGC.”
“So how does that help us?” Mac asked.
Bill shook his head and looked at her. “We don’t know. When you’re gathering evidence in any case, there’s a time when you really don’t know how things fit together. In fact, you really don’t want to know yet.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to know?”
“Well, you do want to know, but you need to be careful you don’t start to speculate too soon and then get it wrong. Then it takes you more time in the long run to find the truth. I think we’re at that point where we need to just look at all the clues and trust that, eventually, everything will fall together and make sense.”
“I don’t think we have a lot of time. I think eventually needs to come pretty quick.” Mac sighed.
“I agree, but all we can do is keep putting together clues and hoping for a break. Anyway,” he turned back to face the others at the table, “it talks about bears dying, lions in their caves, devil’s secrets, and keepers of Tlowa’sk.” He swung his head toward Mac.
