Chapter 2
After Frank had called Tony to check on Joe, he and Phil sat at his Grandmother, Emma Hardy's kitchen table, listening to her going on about her plans for the remodeling she was doing to one of the rooms upstairs. Her kitchen was light and airy with a colonial touch to it. It had an island in the middle for all her baking and cooking preparations which she was always famous for at family gatherings.
"And what room would that be, Grandma?" Frank said as he sipped on his ice tea.
"Why the far room at the end of the hall, of course."
"Of course." Frank whispered to himself, smiling.
"It was always your Grandpa's favorite. I could never get him out of there." She had taken off her glasses to wipe a few smudges away. Her glasses that were somewhat thick because of poor eyesight, had masked the beauty of the kindness that showed through them. She wore her salt and pepper hair up in a bun and the denim jeans and shirt she wore fit her petite frame just right for working on the 80 acre farm they owned. Thankfully she had hired a few ranch hands to work the land to keep it productive. "I asked him one time what he always did in there, but he just said it was work and to leave him be. So I never bothered him except to let him know when his supper was ready."
Frank and Phil exchanged knowing glances. A study. If his Grandpa kept important papers around it would be in that room.
"Grandma, could we see the room? How much have you gotten done? Maybe we could help." Frank said enthusiastically. Phil also nodded his head vigorously.
"My, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you came to solve a mystery." She winked at them, putting her glasses back on.
An uneasy feeling filled Frank. 'Did she know what was going on? Did she know about the medallion?' He looked over at Phil who was just as nervous looking as he felt.
"What are you talking about, Grandma?"
"Oh you don't fool me." she eyed them suspiciously. "I know your Grandpa was working on something up there that could get him in trouble. God rest his soul. Not that he intended for it to be. That best friend of his was always coming around asking questions. After that, I could tell they weren't best friends anymore."
"What was his name?" Frank asked.
"Name was Arlon Bishop. Tall man with wide shoulders; very good looking, but…" she leaned in closer for dramatic emphasis. "Just because you're good looking, doesn't mean you're good." Then she nodded her head for good measure at them.
"Uh…no ma'am." Frank agreed hesitantly, if not somewhat amused by her.
"So, Grandma Hardy, can we help in any way?" Phil pushed on.
Emma got a big grin on her face and slapped the table before she rose off the chair.
"You boys come with me. I may have started with the room but I haven't touched anything in his desk. So let's have a look-see."
She led the way through the house to the stairs leading up to the second floor, followed closely by both boys.
Excitement coursed through them all, over the prospect of finding something buried, like treasure, in a room he hadn't let anyone into.
It hadn't been but a year ago that his Grandfather Gerald passed away. They had worried about his wife of 50 years. They had been just 18 when they had their first child, Gertrude. Then Fenton had come along 10 years later. Then another son, William, was born a year after that. But he had passed away when he was just two of Rheumatic fever. His Grandma hadn't taken Gerald's death very well. They were very close. In fact, Frank had always wanted a relationship like theirs some day. It was full of love and trust and companionship. It was just this one thing in their lives that he didn't want his Emma to know about. Maybe it was for the fear of her safety. But Emma had understood, though she didn't have to like it, as she as much said on more than a few occasions. One thing she did know, she didn't like Arlon. To her, he was shifty eyed and a huge know-it-all. She didn't trust him past the crook in his broken nose. But she put up with him because he was her husband's best friend. She thought he must have been a good man at one time or Gerald wouldn't have given him the time of day. Wherever Arlon was now, she was sure he was up to no good.
She opened the door to the room with a squeak and they all filed in and stood looking at all the maps and graphs on the wall opposite the door. As Frank got closer he could see they were maps set back in the 1700's. Charts and graphs of old mining sites were tacked on the wall on top and off to the side of the huge map in the center. Puzzled, he walked to where Phil and his grandma stood by the desk and chair over by the window on the right side of the room. It was the only piece of furniture in there besides a coat rack that stood in the corner of the room. An old weather beaten hat was still perched on one of the arms. Frank recognized it as his grandfather's. He wore it all the time. Would have worn it to meals to if he'd have gotten away with it. Other than that, the place didn't look like it had ever been touched.
Frank turned to his Grandmother. "I thought you said you already started on it."
"I said I was planning on it. Didn't say I was in the process of."
Frank blushed with the light reprimand and walked over to the desk to see what he could find.
Since Frank was in detective mode, Phil soon fell into a familiar pattern, with them both systematically searching the whole room. Half an hour passed, with the first thing the boys going through was the desk, which came up empty. They had searched the walls and the closet and came up with nothing. Since there was very little else in the room, they were at a loss as to where to look next.
"I'm at a loss unless what ever he was working on was hidden somewhere else other than this room." Frank said.
"Well, I'm thirsty. Anybody else want some more ice tea?" asked Emma, heading out the door.
"Sure, Grandma. Let me shut the door and I'll be down."
Phil looked around the room and his gaze landed on Frank. "I was sure that his work would turn up in here. Where else would he hide it? What he gave Joe certainly wasn't all there was, was it?"
Frank shook his head as he looked around for a spot that they might of missed. "I don't know, Phil. Who knows what was running through his mind at the end."
"Does Dr. Bates know to call you on your phone?" Phil asked.
"Yes, he does. Lets go. I don't want to be gone too long from the house." Frank said, resignedly. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as they went downstairs.
As they walked through the living room Frank happened to look at the old furniture. He could remember the stained wood back when he was little. A bit of nostalgia came to him as he remembered Joe had been racing through the house and had accidentally knocked an antique table and lamp over. He had gotten a spanking for running in the house when he was told not to. He remembered his Grandma clucking her tongue at his mother and saying that boys will be boys. The furniture wasn't harmed and no one got hurt. His mother was furious for the interference and they ended up leaving earlier than normal. He was upset with Joe at the time because he wanted to go fishing with his Grandpa and he wouldn't be able to go because they had to leave early.
Now he smiled at the memory. His eye caught a piece of the intrically detailed pattern of the wood on the end table next to his Grandpa's chair. The more he looked the more it resembled part of the outer edging of the medallion. Frowning, he bent down to get a good look and, then he spied it, nestled in the middle of all the leaves on the side of the table. He waved Phil over and he too bent down to see what it was. He sucked in his breath.
"The Eye!" Phil said.
"I'll bet this was one of the pieces of furniture that was upstairs." Frank reasoned. "She did say she started with the room. Maybe all she did was take a few pieces out."
Frank began to feel around the table. His fingers came upon a little button on the underside just behind the Eye. He pushed it and they could hear a whirring sound and a small partition came out of the side. It looked like a small drawer of about 11in.x14in. Inside were folders and a small tape recorder.
"Boys! Come and get your drinks." Emma called to them.
Phil froze and held his breath. Frank let her know they were coming. He swiftly grabbed the folders and recorder and stuffed them down his pants and led the way back into the kitchen, Phil following behind him. He couldn't wait, as he supposed Phil felt the same way, for them to see what was in those papers. What had his Grandpa been up to? Was it for good or for evil?
