A Treasure to Die For by Richard Houston Page A

several years ago. Surely you don’t think she had anything to do with all this?”
    “No, of course not. It was that thing about her telling Shelia she had one of the pirate copies. I guess she must have seen a chance to sell one of her father’s old books. I’m really grasping at straws, Bon. I’m pretty sure Craig Renfield had something to do with Shelia’s demise and probably killed Appleton too.”
    Bonnie looked horrified. “Are you saying Appleton didn’t kill Shelia? I thought you gave up on that theory when he confessed. I hope you don’t tell anyone else that. I’ll be their prime suspect again.”
    “Mum’s the word, Bon. Unless Fred tells someone, this won’t leave the room; not that the cops would take me seriously.”
    She seemed to consider what I’d said for a moment before speaking again. “But some smart cop might come to the same conclusion. What if they do one of those tests on the suicide note like you see on TV all the time? If you’re right, and someone forged the note after killing Appleton, they’ll be back to looking for who really killed Shelia.”
    “I assume you’re referring to a handwriting analysis. They don’t have a reason to think otherwise, so I doubt they would bother. But we know better. There’s no way he killed himself, and whoever killed Appleton wasn’t working alone.”
    She didn’t have to ask what I meant, her blank stare said it for her. The conversation had obviously taken a turn in the wrong direction. I could see she was getting upset. It was time to leave.
    “The blood on his deck, Bon,” I said, before wiping my mouth with a napkin, and standing. “I think Appleton was killed at his cabin then taken to Three Sisters where the murderer forged a suicide note.”
    Fred had been waiting patiently for more table scraps and must have sensed I was leaving. He left my side of the table and went over to beg from Bonnie.
    Bonnie unconsciously fed him some of her crust before closing the pizza box. “And why do you think he had an accomplice?” she asked.
    “Someone had to give the murderer a ride after parking Appleton’s truck at the park,” I said, waiting for Fred to join me.
    She finally seemed to follow my reasoning. “So Craig killed Appleton at his cabin, then drove his truck to Three Sisters, wrote the note, and was picked up by someone. Have you figured out who that was, too?”
    Fred didn’t move from the table, where he watched Bonnie and the pizza.
    “No, and I really don’t care unless they have Julie’s book and ring. I have no intention of bringing Appleton’s killer to justice; that’s a job for the police. All I want is to get Julie’s property back. In the meantime, I’ve got to get back to the how-to book I’ve been writing, unless you have a better idea.”
    She silently handed me the pizza box. “What about the treasure? I’m sure if you put that great mind of yours on it, you could decode that riddle without even thinking about it.”
    I smiled at her unwitting contradiction. “I have thought about it, and came to the conclusion it’s a hoax so Paul Wilson can sell more books. There is no lost gold, Bon.”
    Bonnie looked at me smugly, the way a child does when arguing with a parent. “Not according to Patty. She said she knew about it long before Wilson found the newspaper article. She remembers her father telling stories about how it was a big thing back in the twenties. Wilson didn’t make that up.”
    ***
    Fred and I finished off the pizza somewhere around two in the morning. I couldn’t concentrate on my chapter dealing with the importance of proper attic ventilation, so we had a cold snack before returning to my computer. I’d convinced myself that Julie would understand if she was watching. It was only one slice.
    Bonnie’s remark about Patty kept getting in the way, or maybe it was the thought of how much two hundred pounds of gold would be worth in today’s market. If Appleton had decoded the original