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“Keefer and I might have started as rivals, looking for some of the same information, but we realized we weren’t really and we cooperated. Because his finding out more about his parentage didn’t derail my search for the treasure and vice versa.”
“Are you sure there is a treasure?”
“Yes. The last bank robbery Oscar Virtanen pulled, they never found what he stole.”
“And Keefer wasn’t interested?”
“Not in that part of it. Ask those people where he lived, they’ll tell you.”
Except they — at least Brenda — referred to the treasure. So where did that get us?
One thing we’d learned about this man in that other investigation was he could hold a grudge.
My Irish ancestors approved — if they hadn’t held grudges they wouldn’t have kept rebelling against the English until finally reclaiming their independence after 800 years. (That’s a lot of grudge.)
My journalistic instincts said a significantly shorter grudge could be a motive for murder. Perhaps over coveted research?
“And we shared,” he continued. “He told me he came across this reference to an article written about some guy who’d been in the posse that chased Oscar—”
Ah, the article Ivy mentioned. “He found the article?”
He shook his head. “References, too, including paraphrasing this posse member reminiscing decades later and it mentioned the guy feeling really sorry for the young widow — Pearl. And it indicated she might have been pregnant. Didn’t come right out and say it, but Keefe was still real excited about that.
“Another time, he found a letter that he shared with me. Somebody from here wrote to her brother in school back east about the robbery and the manhunt for Oscar and the rumor that he’d buried the proceeds from the robbery somewhere on his route, which went through part of their ranch. And the brother wrote back saying he bet he knew where it was. And he described the place in detail. And when he got back, they’d go search for it. That didn’t have anything directly about Oscar and Pearl, but from the dates and geography, it sure seemed like Oscar’s last robbery.”
“Did they?”
“Did who what?”
“Did the brother and sister search for the treasure?”
His expression went grim. “No. He died. A fever.”
“So, it might be where he—”
“No.” Grimmer now. “I figured out where he meant and checked. It had been dug up all over that area. Who knows how many people he wrote to or she told. But it had been worked over years ago.”
“Maybe someone found it and never told anyone.”
He cut me a you’re-crazy-lady look. Clearly the concept of not telling anyone about such a find didn’t factor into his thinking.
“No. I checked and the family’s fortunes didn’t suddenly change.”
Ah, so the reason I was crazy was for not realizing he’d already thought of that and checked.
That made me feel oddly better about Sam McCracken as I wrapped up this conversation — keeping open the door to plenty more, as well as making the point that if he had something to add to call any time.
He was back into his computer before I reached the shed door.
Too bad he offered no proof of this cooperation with Keefer Dobey he claimed beyond his say-so. Opposed to that, we had the impressions of Ivy Short at the library and Clara Atwood at the museum.... and possibly Serena McCracken at home?
Though I wasn’t sure of that last one.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Out of sight of the McCrackens, I pulled over where anyone coming behind me would see my SUV from a good distance.
Sure was easier when I could call Jennifer and ask her to search in real time, rather than lining up behind her school work and — possibly? — a boyfriend.
