Panic Button Part 17

"Aha!" I hate when people say Aha! but if ever there was an occasion for it, this was it. "That's just the thing. Remember when we were at Angela's house that Sunday morning when Charles invited people in to preview what he thought were Evelyn's priceless antiques?"

Of course Nev remembered. I didn't give him a chance to have to say it.

"There was a pile of books in the living room," I reminded him.

"Yeah. You were looking at the one on top. An old volume of Sherlock Holmes stories."

I nodded, then when I realized he couldn't see me, I said, "Exactly. Torn brown cover. c.o.c.keyed binding. And you know what, that's pretty much how I remember Ben's diary looking."

Like I said, cop. Nev had been objective, but now, his voice simmered with sudden interest. "Someone took the diary and replaced it with the old book and figured no one would notice."

"Yes. And that someone-"

"Had to be someone who was at Angela's house with us that morning."

"Just what I was thinking." Now that I'd told him the news that had been eating away at me all day, the knot of excitement in my stomach loosened, and I sat back in the rocker. "And while that someone was stealing the diary," I added, "that same someone didn't realize that he-or she-knocked into that little toy buoy and moved it to the wrong end of the lake. The diary. That's what the murderer wanted. That explains why Susan was killed."

Nev knew this, too. Of course he did. Nev is whip smart and a darned good cop.

"She went back to the Big Museum for her purse," he began.

"And surprised whoever it was who was in there stealing the diary," I finished.

"And whoever it was who was stealing the diary," he added.

"Had to keep her quiet."

"So the diary-"

"Contains something worth killing for." I'd had all afternoon to consider this surprising turn of events, but it still sent my head reeling. I gulped in a calming breath before I dared to add, "Nev, I think that something is-"

I was hoping he'd break in with the final words that would finish my sentence. Partly because it would tell me that we were thinking in sync and that meant my theory was a good one. Mostly because, let's face it, the whole thing still sounded a little too fantastical, even to me.

When I was greeted by silence from the other end of the phone, I gave it another try. "There are legends about Ben," I reminded Nev. "And maybe somebody believes those legends are true. Maybe that same somebody thought there might be proof that they were true. In the diary. Proof about-"

"Buried treasure?"

Yes, I had braced myself for Nev's skepticism. I had even prepared myself for a little gentle teasing. I hadn't actually thought he'd sound so bowled over. And so excited.

I couldn't help myself. I had to ask. I had to be sure. "You believe me?"

I could picture him nodding, slowly at first, then gaining speed as he warmed to the idea. "It makes sense. Lots of sense. A b.u.t.ton? That might not be worth killing for. But buried treasure..."

"Funny you should mention the b.u.t.ton." Those photos I'd taken of Angela's b.u.t.tons were out on the bed and I got up and went to the other side of the room to get them. "I have a theory about that, too."

The way he laughed told me he wasn't surprised.

I launched into my explanation. "I was down at the reservoir today," I said. "Or at least at what was the reservoir before it was drained. Starting tomorrow, they're going to let people walk the rim and get a look at what's left of the old town of Ardent. I took as good a look around as I was able, and I think..." I stared at the picture of the missing b.u.t.ton. "I think the metal b.u.t.ton shows a picture of Ardent, Nev. You know, before they poured water over the whole town. What that means to me-"

"Is that there were two pieces to the buried treasure puzzle. The diary-"

"And the b.u.t.ton. Yes. That's exactly what I was thinking. There's something in the diary that leads to the treasure, and some reason the b.u.t.ton figures into the whole thing. The b.u.t.ton..." I took another good look at the photo. "It shows a log cabin and a schoolhouse and a cemetery. Maybe the treasure is in one of those spots, although why the murderer needed the actual b.u.t.ton..." Nev couldn't see me shrug, so I felt silly for doing it. "I guess we can't be sure. Not until we do a couple things. One of those things...I was hoping you could get here early tomorrow, and that you could get us back into Angela's house."

"Done." It was as easy as that. I thanked the Universe for a friend with the right connections.

"And then there's something else we have to do," I added, while he was still being so agreeable. "We need to get a good look at Ardent."

"You mean from the sh.o.r.es of the reservoir?"

"I mean we actually need to go down into the old town. You can arrange that, can't you? With the local authorities?"

Any other guy might have balked. Or asked about the danger of such a plan. Or the wisdom. Nev? He answered simply, "If you think it's important."

I can't say for sure. I mean, a relationship is one of those things that builds upon itself, incident upon incident. Words and gestures and phrases pile up, and in the end, they either make something that's strong and pleasing, or they're a sort of ramshackle mess and you know it's time to walk away. That means I might not have decided things right then and there. I mean, not completely. But in that one moment, with that one comment...I'm pretty sure that's when I knew for sure that I was nuts about Nevin Riley.

Chapter Seventeen.

TALL YELLOW RUBBER BOOTS DO NOT MAKE A FASHION statement.

Good thing I'm not all that image conscious, or I would have felt even sillier and more awkward than I already did in my tall yellow rubber boots clumping through the mud that had been churned up by the gully washer of a storm that inundated Ardent Lake right after midnight. Fortunately, the humidity had disappeared along with the lightning and thunder, and that Sat.u.r.day morning dawned clear and just crisp enough to be comfortable without being too chilly.

At least in Ardent Lake.

Down at the bottom of the reservoir in what was left of Ardent, the air was still and damp, and curls of mist hung over the rotting remains of the town all around us.

It was- "Eerie." At my side, Nev was obviously thinking just what I was thinking. The night before, he'd promised he'd get to Ardent Lake bright and early, and he'd been as good as his word. Unfortunately, that didn't help my plans for the early morning. It seemed like even fairy-tale towns had their evil villains, and thanks to a break-in at a convenience store, we hadn't been able to hook up with Jimmy Carns until just a few minutes before we were scheduled to come to the reservoir; our trip to Angela's would have to wait, and that meant we'd also have to wait to see if that book of Sherlock Holmes stories was really missing.

We were outside what used to be the Ardent post office and Nev paused to take a picture.

"I know. Geeky." Nev stuck his digital camera back in the pocket of his Windbreaker, though I didn't know why he bothered. He'd only end up taking it out again in another minute, just like he'd been doing ever since we arrived at the lake and descended to the bottom of the reservoir. "I can't help myself. How many people get to visit a city that's been underwater all these years? The whole place is-"

"Unsettling." It was, and as we headed up the street, I moved a step to my right, closer to Nev. Jimmy and two other members of the Ardent Lake Police Department were twenty feet ahead of us, watching for dangerous debris and directing us around potholes, uprooted trees, and a variety of junk that had either been left on the ground when the town was abandoned or had been thrown into the lake since. The mud around us was pocked with beer cans and tackle boxes. I even saw a couple plastic lawn chairs.

It was an apocalyptic scene, a place where the buildings were barely recognizable and the sidewalks and street sucked at our feet as if some muddy deity was just daring us to try and take another step.

"The folks up on the rim..." Nev looked up and over his shoulder to where the residents of Ardent Lake were starting to gather to get a glimpse of their old hometown. "They must be as jealous as heck watching us walk around down here. We're getting a whole different view of things."

"And not necessarily a good one." I didn't mean to sound helpless, but my left boot was stuck in the mud and I needed an a.s.sist from Nev to brace myself, yank, and retrieve it. As long as I had a hold of his arm, I hung on tight and we continued on, skirting the edges of what was once the center of downtown Ardent and heading down a small but slippery hill.

"This is the spot you were asking about." Jimmy waved toward an expanse of relatively flat land and the pile of rotted timbers and mud in the middle of it. "That's what's left of the old log cabin," he said. "At least..." He scanned the area, just making sure. "Yeah. It's got to be. The post office..." He pointed. "The library..." He turned that way, too, before he spun back around to where he'd started. "The log cabin. They tried to get it moved, you know, before the reservoir was filled. But n.o.body stepped forward to donate the money to make it happen."

Nev had circled around to the front of what was left of the building. Fists on hips, he shook his head. "If there is something buried here..."

"We'd never find it." I was reluctant to get too close to the heap of rotting wood and oozing mud, but I inched a careful step nearer. "n.o.body could find anything in that mess. If Thunderin' Ben buried anything in there-"

"Not a chance." Jimmy dismissed the idea instantly. "It wasn't a real log cabin," he said. "I mean, well, sure, it was a real cabin built from real logs, but it wasn't original. The original one belonged to Ardent's first settlers, and that was torn down years ago because it was falling apart and wasn't safe. This one..." Jimmy motioned toward the mountain of muck, where at the top, a small green frog was positioning itself to make the most of the sunshine. "The Boy Scouts built it to replace the old one and commemorate the town's sesquicentennial."

"Which means if the treasure was buried in the original log cabin-"

"Somebody would have found it." Jimmy was so sure of this, I couldn't help believing him. "I was in the Boy Scout troop back then. I remember. They did a thorough job of removing that old cabin so we could put up this one. Shame it's in this shape now." He took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair. "We had a lot of fun building that cabin."

"Then how about the schoolhouse?" I checked the photo of the missing b.u.t.ton against the battered landscape around us. "Was that original?"

Jimmy nodded. "Absolutely."

"Then it would have been around in Ben's time."

Another nod. "There's a story around here, you know," Jimmy said, poking a finger at the schoolhouse bell tower in the picture. "They say that when someone's going to die, you can still hear the bell ringing. Even from underneath the water."

Urban legend, and I didn't believe it for a minute, but I could see how stories like that got started. The homes and churches and shops of Ardent had been flooded with something like eight million gallons of water. It was easy to see how spooky stories would naturally follow that kind of planned destruction.

We slipped and slid our way a hundred yards farther on ahead and stopped in front of the schoolhouse. It was built of brick and, except for the mother of all mud facials, had survived the water far better than the log cabin had.

"But why would our killer need the b.u.t.ton so badly?" OK, I was obsessing, even as we walked around the perimeter of the schoolhouse and stopped at the front door. "If the picture on the b.u.t.ton showed the town as it used to be, and if he needed the picture to figure out where the treasure might be hidden, why wouldn't the picture be enough?"

"You mean why did he need the actual b.u.t.ton?" Nev had one hand on the front door of the schoolhouse. "Maybe he didn't need the b.u.t.ton. Not really. Maybe-"

"It's just lost. Like our fish b.u.t.ton was. Yeah, I know." I was sorry I brought it up, but I couldn't help myself. I felt like we were finally getting close to making sense of all that had happened over the past weeks, and my brain wouldn't stop whirling over the details.

Grumbling, I stepped back so that Nev and Jimmy could pry the schoolhouse door open.

Good thing I did, or like poor Nev and Jimmy, I would have been swamped with the sea of mud that poured out of the school.

"Oh, yuck!" Nev has quick reflexes. The mud flowed up and out, as high as his knees, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed his camera out of his pocket and tossed it to me to be sure it stayed clean and safe.

Good thing I have quick reflexes, too. I caught the camera with one hand and darted back and out of the way of the mudflow that would have easily come up over the tops of my boots.

It wasn't until after I was sure I was out of harm's way that I bent forward and peered into the building. Once upon a time, it had been a one-room schoolhouse, and now, except for what had rolled out the door, that one room was pretty much filled top to bottom with gunk.

"I think it's pretty safe to say we're not going to find any treasure in there," I commented.

Nev didn't answer. But then, he was still pretty busy sc.r.a.ping spatters of mud off his jacket.

That left the cemetery, and in the blasted landscape, it was difficult to tell exactly how far away it was. I tried to stand on tiptoe to see a little better, slipped, and would have gone down if Nev hadn't looped one arm around my waist. Great plan. Or at least it would have been if he wasn't covered with mud.

Cringing, I refused to worry about how I'd ever get my jacket clean, and followed my police escort, and after another couple slip-slidey minutes of walking, we caught a glimpse of the first headstones sticking up through the mud like rotted teeth.

A shiver snaked over my shoulders. "Oh, that's just positively creepy!"

"Not to worry." Jimmy laughed. "The bodies aren't here anymore. They were all removed. You know, before the reservoir was filled. All the dead folks are up at Elm Lawn in town now, and this place is just empty.

"Empty and creepy," I said, hoping Nev would take pity on me and stay close, but it seemed even the mud hadn't soured his opinion of how interesting the drowned town was. He motioned for his camera, I relinquished it, and he darted ahead.

I wiped a dot of mud off the photo of the b.u.t.ton and studied the picture again before I realized that what looked like a little building beyond the headstones in the photograph was in reality an elaborate mausoleum.

"Nev." I closed in on him where he was crouched in front of a gravestone that had been completely coated with moss. "Nev, if you were a pirate and eager to hide your treasure, would you take a chance of burying it?"

He got to his feet. "You mean here in the cemetery? I guess no one would notice that the ground had been disturbed, but heck, the whole point of being a pirate is avoiding hard work whenever possible. If I was a pirate, I wouldn't want to put in the sweat equity. Besides, you heard what Jimmy said. This whole place was dug up before the town was flooded so they could retrieve the bodies and bury them in the new town. If there was treasure in any one of these graves-"

"Somebody would have found it."

We finished the thought together.

Rather than allow myself to get discouraged again, I glommed on to an earlier thought and followed it to its logical conclusion. "But what if you were that same pirate and there was a better place to hide something. Like, say in some little building?" I asked Nev. "That would be easier."

"Way easier." He swung his gaze where I was looking, at that mausoleum. "If it's not filled with junk like the schoolhouse was..."

He didn't finish the thought. He didn't need to. Moving faster than either of us should have been able to with the ground slipping out from under our feet, we hurried over to the mausoleum.

This close, I could see that the tomb was constructed of gray and pink granite and that it must have been gorgeous-and expensive-in its day. There were carved angels standing guard on either side of the door, and I suspected that what was now a hole in the side wall had once contained a stained gla.s.s window. These days, there was greenery sprouting from the gutters and the skeleton of a fish lay on the doorstep. None of that was especially surprising, of course.

The name carved over the doorway...

That was another thing altogether.

"Moran." Out loud, Jimmy Carns read the name carved above the door from right behind us, and yes, I squealed and flinched. But then, it was that kind of place. "Family's been around here for years and all of them were buried here. Not Ben, of course. Story has it he died in Chicago and was buried there somewhere. But here, this is where Thunderin' Ben's parents were supposed to spend eternity resting in peace."

I hadn't expected that obvious a connection to Thunderin' Ben, and my spirits soared.

Jimmy didn't look nearly as pleased. In fact, he shook his head, downright disgusted. "All these years, and you think this is where the treasure might be? h.e.l.l, when we were kids, we'd listen to the stories about Ben and then we'd grab our shovels and go running around the woods outside of town and dig up place after place. And if all this time, it was really here..."

"If."

Nev didn't need to remind me. I was being practical. Honest. I was prepared to be let down-again-by a clue that led nowhere. Of course, that didn't mean I was prepared to give up.

Again, I went over the theory Nev and I had just about talked to death over breakfast that morning. "If the b.u.t.ton showed the way to the treasure..."

"That would mean that b.u.t.ton was worth stealing, and maybe our killer thought it was worth killing for, too," he said. "But I can't help but think about what you said earlier, Josie. Why did the killer need the b.u.t.ton? The killer must have known that the b.u.t.ton showed old Ardent, the cabin and the school and the cemetery. But for some reason, that wasn't good enough. He needed the actual physical b.u.t.ton. Why?"

"Maybe there was something you had to do with the b.u.t.ton," I proposed, sounding as unsure of this theory as I felt and like I was coming up with a plot idea for a new Indiana Jones movie. "Like the b.u.t.ton is some kind of key or something. And maybe Ben talked about how it worked in his diary. Maybe that's why the killer needed both the b.u.t.ton and the diary."

"Maybe." Nev didn't sound any more sure of this than I felt, and before I could convince myself that we were wasting our time, I inched closer to the mausoleum.

I made sure to stay well out of the way of whatever might rush out when Nev pulled open the mausoleum door. "Not a lot of mud," I commented to him, and of course, he was one step ahead of me. He simply nodded and gestured to Jimmy to have a look at a mushy pile of mud just to the right of the front door. I knew where his thoughts were running. "You think that little mud pile looks awfully neat. Like maybe someone shoveled mud out of the mausoleum and threw it over there."

He didn't agree or disagree. "Let's go inside," Nev said, "and find out."

If what was left of Ardent out under the wide, blue sky was creepy, the inside of a mausoleum which had until just very recently been filled with water and left, silent and abandoned, all these years, was off the scale in the scare-me-to-death department.

"Good thing I brought a flashlight."