Suddenly, the thought of Lou holding a baby,ourbaby, hits me like a ton of bricks. Not in a bad way. Sweat isn’t gathering at my brow imagining it like it has other times, in other relationships. No, it feels good. Right. Perfect, actually.
Lou makes her way to her truck, but I point to my SUV. “Let me drive.”
I know Bill knows we’ve left with the coins, so I’d prefer we’re in a car that can go over thirty miles per hour if needed. Reversing out of the driveway, I put the car into Drive. Glancing at the clock I frown. “It’s after five. Is the bank going to be open?”
Lou shakes her head. “No. It closes at four thirty.”
Shit. Now what? Doing a U-turn in the middle of Main Street, I’m doing my best to think of our options when I look over at Lou, who’s resting her head back onto the leather seat. Looking over at me, she says, “You know, I just thought of something….”
“What?”
“You remember me telling you that a man from California wanted to buy this place?”
“Mr. Firnstrip?”
She frowns. “Huh?” Shaking me off, she replies, “No, his name was Joseph Feinster III.”
“Feinster? That name sounds familiar.”
“His family owns Finesse Shoes.”
You’ve got to be shitting me….
“He offered me six hundred thousand dollars for the house.”
“Uh—” That’s double what it’s probably worth, or would have been if she’d been able to finish it.
“Yeah. It was a ridiculous sum.”
“You didn’t sell?” As she shakes her head, I answer before she has a chance to say anything. “Because that”—I point at the house as I back out of the driveway—“isyourhouse.”
“Ugh. Did I blab everything to you last night?”
I chuckle. “Pretty much.”
“Anyway. I researched the man before I called him and there’s an interesting story about his father, who died recently, and a missing treasure Feinster Junior supposedly stole while he was in Germany in World War II.”
I glance her way as I weave my way through town. I’m not sure where I’m going, but I think it’s best to keep moving. I can guarantee Bill has eyes on us. Not just his.
“Keep going.” I want to hear the whole story.
When she’s done, I can’t believe it. “You want to know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think Feinster took that treasure and double-crossed the German soldier.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He hid it until his trial was over, then he grabbed it and made his way across the country from Dayton to San Francisco, stopping in Zodiac Hills.”
Glancing at Lou, I see she’s nodding. “Makes sense. Interstate 80 wasn’t finished until the mid-50s, so prior to that, the main road through Nebraska was the one we’re on right now. Also, the place the bag was stashed, the butler’s pantry, was an addition that Martin Little built in 1951.”
“When was the trial over?”
Lou pulls her phone out and taps away. “Interesting.”
“1951?”
