Chapter 12

“Ooh, kinky!” Aunt Joan announced as she discovered the peep holes into the master bedroom and bath from the secret passage.

I showed Dad the corner where the dust was less where the jars ‘had’ been sitting. They really had sat there, for about 5 minutes. Eventually he herded us back downstairs, and after opening a jar and playing with the coins, Aunt Joan regretfully left them behind.

Once she left, Dad turned to me. “Ok, what didn’t you say or show me while she was here?”

“There’s a fourth jar. It’s in my room. It has 20 doubloons as well, but they are different.”

“How different?”

“Bigger. Let me get them.”

I came back holding the very heavy jar. Setting it on the counter.

“This is almost a pound of gold. Not a Troy pound, but an actual, what they make burgers out of, pound.”

“These are doubloons also?”

“So the naming is confusing, because doubloon literally means double, they’re actually called Escudos, and they came in half, 1, 2, 4, and 8. Each Escudos was worth 2 Spanish dollars, called a Reales. The two Escudos are technically also called doubloons because they are two or double. But that name also in some places includes these, which are 8 Escudos coins, because each Escudos is worth double of a Reales.”

“And what are these worth?”

“Just in gold? About $24,000.”

“And as coins?”

“I have no idea. It could be that much per coin, and the brief research I did online showed that sometimes these coins, in excellent condition like these, go for hundreds of thousands each. So figure somewhere between 25k and 2 million.”

Dad said nothing. He just stood, and walked away. I just shrugged, and got a soda and a bag of chips. I was doing further research on my phone when he returned. He picked up two of the jars, and said, “grab the other two.”

I followed him down into the basement, where he opened up the old coal furnace, and set the jars in. Then he reached out, so I handed him the jars I was carrying. He set the first jar in, then opened the second, and removed 5 coins. After resealing the jar, he set it inside, and closed the furnace again.

“Ok, so we found 5 coins. Where do we go to be sure they are authentic?” he asked.

“I think first we ask a lawyer if we got the contents of the house when we bought it at auction,” I said.

“Ouch, didn’t think of that. It was a buy at your own risk auction, like most county tax property sales.”

“Are there heirs?” I asked.

“Nobody found any when old man Peterson died, especially because this house wasn’t the only property he owned in the county. There was a developer that was prepared to pay millions for a tract of land outside Summerville, but couldn’t buy it because no heirs could be found. He even offered a finders fee to anyone who could find an heir.”

“Ok, so I’ve got the name of a lawyer in Summerville who can handle authentication, ownership, and even melting them down to bricks if necessary for untraceable disposal,” I told him.

“How did you find that?”

“Google,” I said, lying to protect my all knowing and all seeing instruction manual.

“When can we get an appointment?” he asked.

“I can call, but an adult would probably get farther.”

“Sure, what’s the number?” he asked, pulling out his cell phone.

I looked it up online again, and I read him the number.

“Hi, my name is Pete Atwood, and I need to talk to a lawyer about an issue that’s come up ... I’m happy to pay the consultation fee, I have it on good authority you are the firm I need to talk to ... I’d rather not discuss it over the phone, any chance I could get an appointment this evening or tomorrow after 5 ... Yes, I consider it urgent, but it really can wait ... ok tomorrow at 5pm will work ... thank you.”

He turned to me, “Alright, I’m not going to have time tomorrow to come get you, can you ride your bike out to the prison, and be there at 4pm, when my shift ends?”

“I will be there,” I promised.

“Excellent, now what’s the plan for dinner? Weren’t we supposed to go celebrate the first day of school?”

“Can we get delivery? I’m really wanting pizza, but I really don’t feel like going out.”

Dad glanced down towards where the old coal boiler sat in the basement, “Yeah, I don’t feel much like going out either.”

The doorbell rang, I was surprised my phone hadn’t alerted me, then realized it was still on silent mode as requested during the school tour. Aunt Joan was standing outside with pizza.

“Did you guys forget that we are celebrating tonight?” she asked as Dad opened the door.

She really is the best.

“You really are the best Aunt ever,” I told her as she set down two large pizzas on the kitchen island.

I gathered plates and cups for everyone. Dad wanted coffee, so he started the maker. Aunt Joan asked for water, which I procured from the fridge dispenser. I still had a bottle of Reeds ginger brew soda.

“This isn’t just the best pizza in town, it’s the only pizza in town,” Aunt Joan said, as she pulled a slice from the top box, and set it on her plate.

“I assume Summerville has better?” I asked.

“Not really. They have the three big national chains, Domino’s, Pizza Factory, and Round Table. This is the local pizza place, it’s just called Salt Brush Pizza and Beer.”

“Wow this is pretty good,” Dad said, after biting into his first piece.