My jaw drops. “Oh, my word! You want to convince him to write his memoir, don’t you?”
She shrugs. “Maybe.”
“You won’t ask him about it today, you hear me?” I order her. “ Today, we’re on a treasure hunt.”
“I know,” she practically squeals.
My big sis is always up for an adventure. It’s one of the reasons why she left town after she graduated college. But since she’s now engaged to her childhood sweetheart, she’s back to stay. Yeah!
The door creaks open and Mercury steps out onto the porch. “Are you going to sit out here gossiping all day or are you coming in?”
His crotchety old man ways don’t bother Aspen one bit. She smiles up at him. “Good morning, Mercury.”
He grunts before going back inside.
“Let’s go,” she says but I’m already out of the cart and on the stairs.
We follow Mercury into the house and settle at the kitchen table. He doesn’t bother with small talk. “What have you got for me today?”
Aspen pulls the letter out of her bag and slides it across the table to show him. “We found this letter in the safe at the brewery. It’s addressed to Patricia from Robert.”
Mercury scans the letter. “You’ll find the item referred to in the temporary tablecloth,” he reads aloud. “And you figure ‘the item referred to’ is the money he stole from the bank?”
“Yeah.” I rub my hands together as my excitement builds. “And I think the temporary tablecloth is a newspaper, but I don’t know what newspaper it could be since the Winter Falls Post wasn’t established until 1960 and the letter was written in February of 1955.”
Mercury studies me for a long moment. “There’s more to you than being a troublemaker, Ashlyn Dream.”
I don’t bristle at being referred to as a troublemaker. Not when he obviously means his words as a compliment. “Thank you.”
“Do you have any idea what newspaper the Black Hat Bandit is referring to?” Aspen asks.
Mercury smiles and it transforms his face. He seems decades younger, although I have no idea how old he is in reality.
“I can do you one better,” he says and stands. “Come on.”
I jump to my feet and rush after him. He opens a door, and we descend a flight of stairs to his basement, which is filled to the rim with boxes. There’s barely room to breathe down here. I notice several boxes labeled Adhara. What’s Adhara?
“Here it is,” Mercury announces. He taps a box labeled Clifton.
“Clifton?” I ask. “As in the previous owner of the mansion?”
“Someone read my book,” he mumbles. “Bring the box upstairs,” he orders before shuffling away.
I reach for the box, but Aspen elbows me out of the way. “Rowan would kill me if I let you carry a box.”
“And Lyric won’t kill me?”
“I don’t have a broken ankle.”
Oh, yeah. I forgot about my stupid ankle for a minute there despite the heavy boot clomping around as I walk. I trail after Aspen as she carries the box up the stairs and sets it on the kitchen table.
“What’s in here?” I ask.
“Hold your horses, young lady,” Mercury snaps.
“My horses are being held,” I snap back.
He chuckles as he opens the box. I peer inside. It’s filled with newspapers. I lean closer. The Winter Creek Bulletin.