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“When was the last time you saw my uncle,” Dezi asked.
“It’s been a couple of weeks,” Eugene said. “We haven’t played cards since our group went from four men to three. Joe, our fourth man, had a stroke. He lived alone. No one found him in time to get him to a hospital and that clot-busting medicine that might have saved him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dezi said.
“I saw Leon at Joe’s funeral. He was upset about Joe’s passing. He didn’t think it was just a stroke that took him. Joe wasn’t in the best of shape. He was overweight and drank too much.” Eugene tilted his head. “Leon thought Joe was murdered.”
Dezi’s heart thundered in her chest as she met Eugene’s gaze. “We just came from the coroner’s office. The medical examiner recorded my uncle’s cause of death as asphyxiation. He didn’t die from an accident. Someone smothered my uncle to death.”
Eugene’s eyes widened. “Leon was murdered?” He shook his head. “I have a buddy who was the emergency medical technician who responded to the 911 call. He said it appeared as if Leon fell and hit his head.”
Dezi nodded. “The M.E. agreed my uncle fell and hit his head, but that wasn’t what killed him. Someone smothered him while he was unconscious. The knock on his head didn’t kill him. Someone else did the job.”
“Sweet Jesus.” Eugene scrubbed a hand through his hair, standing the gray scruff on end. “Who would want to kill Leon? He was one of the nicest people I knew. He’d do anything for any of his family or friends. Granted, he was quirky as hell…always chasing his next adventure or some treasure he was sure was hiding in some building, cave or mine.”
“Did he talk about his treasure hunts?” Dezi asked.
Eugene snorted. “All the time. I don’t think he ever found the treasure he was looking for. If he had, he wouldn’t have lived in that dump of a trailer he lived in since I’ve known him. And that’s been over twenty years. He used to show me pictures of the places he wanted to buy when he struck it rich. None of those places had wheels.”
Eugene sighed. “Now he’s gone. I guess you’ll be going through his belongings. If you come across his poker chips and don’t want to keep them for yourself, I’ll take them off your hands. I’m sure gonna miss him around the poker table.”
Dezi nodded. “When I go through his things, I’ll keep you in mind. It was nice to meet you, Eugene.” She had a lot to think about, and Eugene didn’t seem to hold the answer to the number 100 clue.
Eugene gave her a sad smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Dezi. Wish it had been under better circumstances.”
“Your talk of my uncle brings him closer and stirs memories of the good times I spent with him, my father and grandfather. Thank you for that.” She glanced up at Grimm. “You ready?”
He gave her a curt nod.
Casting one last smile at Eugene, Dezi slipped her hand through the crook of Grimm’s arm, turned and walked toward the door.
As she reached the exit, Eugene called out from behind her, “Wait, Ms. Dezi.”
Dezi turned back, her brow puckered, “Sir?”
The man rummaged beneath his desk, pulled out a small metal box and brought it to the door. “When I saw your uncle at the funeral, he gave me this box to hold with some strange instructions. He told me not to tell anyone about it except his niece, Dezi, and only if she came looking for it.” He held it out to Dezi. “I guess since he's gone now, and you came asking if I knew him, that counts. He wanted you to have it.” As he handled it, something rattled around inside.
Dezi took the metal box in her hands and noted that it had a combination lock on the front. The metal itself was heavy, like it was some kind of firebox for important papers. The rattling inside didn’t seem to indicate there was much in the way of contents.
She handed the box to Grimm, then reached out and hugged Eugene. “Thank you for being a friend to my uncle.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Eugene said and returned to the ticket counter behind the window beneath the advertisement for 100 places to visit by train.
Dezi and Grimm left the train station with the metal box. Still holding the box, Grimm balanced it in one hand and opened Dezi’s door with the other. Once she’d climbed inside and buckled her seatbelt, he settled the box in her lap and rounded the truck to get into the driver’s seat.
Even before Grimm was settled, Dezi was spinning the combination lock, working the numbers from her grandfather’s tattoo.
Grimm started the engine, backed out of the parking space and pulled out onto the road.
Dezi adjusted the numbers on the lock. When she’d entered the last number, she held her breath and pushed the metal tab to the side. The latch clicked, and she was able to open the box.
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t get it.”
“What’s inside?” Grimm asked.
She held up a blue pushpin. “I don’t get it.”
Grimm shot a glance her way. “That’s it?”
