CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE GHOST OF ST. ELMO
“Now, Charles and I have something to tell you,” Mr. Mac volunteered mysteriously. We all huddled around the hot fire and got comfortable as Mr. Mac began his story. “About a year ago,” he started, “we discovered that some counterfeit ten and twenty dollar bills started showing up in town. For this part of the country and such a small town, that was pretty unusual that they would be passed here. They started showing up at the feed store, the banks, grocery stores and a couple of the taverns in town. Soon suspicions turned to some of the ranch hands in the area, and about three months ago it was discovered that some of our boys had been passing them, as well. When Charles and you arrived, Ian, and I discovered that Charles was an ex FBI agent, I enlisted his help. He developed a theory that there was a pattern as to when the money started appearing on a fairly regular basis. Every Friday was the most apparent time, and we tied Fridays in with our boys since I knew that was when I paid them. Charles investigated and determined that it was definitely our ranch hands who were giving the phony money out when they were in town. He contacted the bank and discovered, after further investigation, that they were depositing the counterfeit bills into their bank accounts. But, that wasn’t all he discovered. Jeb and Slim were the only ones who were depositing real money and not the fake. But, how? Well, it turns out that when I handed the checks out to Jeb to distribute to the hands, it was always his policy that he would go into town that afternoon, and the boys would ask him to cash their paychecks. Well, he did cash them, but he also made a visit to the sheriff’s department. Charles followed him, saw the sheriff and him exchanging money at the jail and then tied everything together. Charles, why don’t you fill in the rest of the story?” he suggested.
“Thanks, Mac. You’ve done a great job, but I’ll finish, if you want me to,” he reluctantly offered. I knew Charles was an extremely competent man, but I also knew from past experience that he was very humble and didn’t crave the spotlight or credit for anything he felt was his duty. “Well, when the sheriff and Jeb met,” he started, “I did see them exchanging money, and then it hit me, as to why. Jeb had just returned from the bank after cashing the ranch hands’ checks with legitimate currency, and then the sheriff would exchange the good money for the counterfeit. Jeb would then leave the sheriff, return to the ranch and distribute the money to the men in individual envelopes. They had no idea that they were using the phony money every time they went into town. The sheriff would then take the real money he had received from Jeb and then go to the bank, deposit it as money from cattle sales and, in turn, make himself a very wealthy man. The sheriff also used the counterfeit money when he would go to cattle auctions all over Colorado. The buyers had no idea they were getting duped by receiving counterfeit money, and then the sheriff would re-sell the same cattle he had just bought, for a slight profit. He would receive a legitimate check for their sale and then immediately cash the checks and pocket the good currency. We knew we had solved the counterfeit money mystery, but we had no idea where it was made, or who all was involved. If it weren’t for you three, we would still be looking. You’re quite the detectives,” he smiled.
“But, what about Brad?” Katie blurted out. “What’s he going to do with his dad locked up in jail?”
“Well, Katie, I guess you’ll have a little brother for a while,” Mr. Mac answered. “But I don’t think that will be for long. You see, we found out that Slim, who we didn’t know was Jeb’s brother, was blackmailing him and threatened that they would kill Brad if he didn’t cooperate with them. I think the Judge will take that into consideration, especially when Charles and I testify as to the reason he was involved. In the meantime we’ll take good care of him. You can count on that.”
“Knock! Knock! Knock!” came three loud thumps on the door. “Knock! Knock!” Katie jumped to her feet and ran to the heavy wooden door. She opened it slowly and looked around. No one was there. “Who is it, Katie?” Mr. Mac asked. “Have them come in.”
“Daddy, There’s no one here,” she said incredulously. Mr. Mac moved from his colorful, overstuffed chair and made his way to the entrance. Katie walked out onto the front veranda and returned to the foyer where her father was waiting. She stood there in total silence with her eyes staring in disbelief. Slowly, she raised an object in her hands so that we could see what she was holding. It was a bright, yellow pair of Indian moccasins. Zack and I stood in shock, not able to say a word. A chill went up my spine, and my heart began to race, once again. I looked around the room at everyone’s face, and they seemed to have that same blank stare. No. It couldn’t be. Could it?
“Well,” Mr. Mac roared, “I guess someone’s trying to pull one over on you three. Or maybe this is from your Ghost of St. Elmo,” he said, winking at Charles and Mrs. Mac. “Oh, by the way Charles, have you ever met their ghost? It seems to follow them around everywhere, saving their lives, and it even finds them gold,” he snickered. “Come on. Follow me. I’ll show you old French Pete and his yellow moccasins.” Mr. Mac led Charles into the room full of arrows and Indian artifacts he had shown me when I had first arrived and sauntered toward the picture of French Pete. Zack, Katie, Mrs. Mac and I followed close behind. We all gathered around and stared up at the large oil painting that hung high above us. Mr. Mac fell backward and gasped as Charles caught him in his arms.
His eyes were wide, and his mouth had fallen open. We pulled our eyes from Mr. Mac and looked up at what he was staring at. There, in the painting stood French Pete. We all gasped as he had at what we were looking at. Katie shot me a quick glance and squeezed my arm. The yellow moccasins were no longer on French Pete’s feet but were replaced with old leather boots. The feather in his hair was gone, and he was wearing an old, wrinkled Stetson hat. He had a patch over his one eye, and it looked as though he was winking at us with the other. After we got over our initial shock, we all stood there in silence, once again.
“Well, Daddy, maybe now you will believe us and the yellow moccasins,” Katie said as she handed them to her father. “I guess French Pete can rest now since he no longer has to guard his gold.” A bewildered look came over the faces of Mr. and Mrs. McVicars’ faces. Mr. Mac shook his head hopelessly and stumbled off into the living room with the assistance of Charles. Katie swallowed hard. “Well, I guess you boys have solved the mystery of ‘The Ghost of St. Elmo.’”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I have a hunch that if you ever need help again, he‘ll be right here,” I laughed. “Right here hanging on the wall, your own personal ghost.”
We were all glad the case had been solved and looked proudly at each other as we headed back out into the falling snow. We wanted to give the MacVicars and Charles plenty of time to digest what they had just seen. After all…we had never doubted The Ghost of St. Elmo. But, for now we were ready to enjoy the rest of our Colorado vacation before we got involved in another mystery. I turned to look proudly at my friends and “Whish.” I was met by a snowball in my back from Katie. The fun was on, and I headed out into the cold, chasing after both of them. “Watch out Katie!...Boo! Boo! Booooooooo!”
THE END
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