about that?” asked Weirdo.
“The receptionist.”
“I told you they were all Nosey Parkers in this place.”
Charlie told him that his mother had no idea where her father’s shares were hidden or if they even still existed.
“Well the odds are this guy doesn’t have them,” reasoned Weirdo, “or he wouldn’t have risked breaking in a second time.”
“You’re the only other shareholder living in Colville, aren’t you? I mean, if this guy was after you and Grampa, wouldn’t he try to track down the others?”
“Oh my word,” said Weirdo. “Essie. You have to warn Essie.”
“Who’s Essie?”
“Herb Lovell’s widow.”
“It’s gotta be that one over there.”
They crossed the street and checked the number. “One-twenty-three,” read Charlie. “That’s it.”
Joey pounded up the porch steps ahead of them and rang the buzzer.
They waited. Nothing happened.
“Try it again,” suggested Charlie. “Weirdo said she was kind of deaf.”
About a minute later, the front door was unlatched. Essie peered at them from behind the screen door. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Lovell?”
“Yes?” Essie Lovell’s white hair was secured with a clip. Her face was soft and round, framed by a pair of half-moon glasses. Lisa could just make out the flesh-toned hearing aid in the woman’s left ear.
Charlie introduced himself and his companions.
“Your husband knew my grandfather, Malcolm Rossitor,” he began.
“Yes, yes,” said Essie. “Mr. Rossitor. From the bank.”
“We came to talk to you about some old mining shares.”
The woman’s expression suddenly changed.
“Mrs. Lovell?” said Charlie. “Are you all right?”
“There was a man here yesterday morning asking me about those old shares.”
“Yesterday morning?” squeaked Lisa.
Essie nodded. “He said he was an antique dealer.”
Lisa and Charlie exchanged a glance.
“Did you give them to him?” asked Charlie.
“What’s this all about?” Essie’s voice was anxious. She kept her hand firmly gripped on the door handle beside her.
“Someone is very interested in the Treasure Creek Gold Mine,” said Charlie. “We think he’s trying to get hold of the shares any way he can.”
Charlie looked around for Joey to see if he was listening, but he was too busy trying to climb the lower limbs of the giant chestnut tree.
Charlie moved closer to the screen. “We think whoever it was broke into my grandfather’s house as well,” he confided, “and Mr. Weir is worried he might come after you.”
Essie raised her right hand to her cheek. “Oh, dear,” she said and opened the screen door. “You’d better come in.”
Charlie gestured to Joey to come with them.
“Is it okay if I stay out here?” called Joey from his perch on the bottom limb.
“Just don’t fall, okay?” said Charlie and went inside.
Essie Lovell’s parlour was crammed full of furniture. Charlie and Lisa picked their way through the maze of needlepoint chairs and curio tables to a pair of over-stuffed armchairs by the fireplace.
While Essie perched anxiously on the edge of a Victorian love seat, Charlie filled her in on the events of the last few days.
“Poor old Jack,” she said, “he always believed in that mine. I’m afraid my husband thought it was a bit of a flyer.”
“Do you still have your shares?” asked Lisa.
Essie nodded. “Locked in the safety deposit box at the bank.” She told them about her visitor the day before. “He said he was an antique dealer and that people buy old stock certificates as collectors’ items. So what is he after?”
“Weirdo – I mean Mr. Weir – thinks the mine must still be worth something,” said Charlie. He leaned forward. “Otherwise, this guy wouldn’t be tracking down all the old partners.”
“You can’t trust anyone. My friend Dorothy gave a man a ten-thousand-dollar down payment for a condo in South Carolina. She had her bags all packed when the police called to tell her she’d been